


Autumn Leaves

by Navyrants



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, also i hate having to tag max's full name like that, basically everything is okay au, no jefferson au, rachel is alive au, she hates being called maxine, why are you doing this to me ao3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-05-01 09:53:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5201516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Navyrants/pseuds/Navyrants
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You did manage to take a picture of a curious girl with blonde hair and a blue feather earring as she was dancing, though, so you counted the night a success.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Autumn Leaves

Rachel is something of a masterpiece in and of herself, you think. The way her hair always looks perfect, even when it's a mess, and the way her laugh alone can make the tips of your ears turn red. The way her eyes seem to carry words you can't quite read. A born model.

You'd heard about her way before you'd met her. But then, how could you not? She was everywhere, knew everyone. When you walked into the dorm on the day you moved in, you'd noticed that hers was the only decorated door on the hall. Construction paper butterflies and birds surrounded the number plate--224. The whiteboard was clean, though, save for a very neatly printed "Rachel Amber." You'd thought it was interesting, that someone would neglect the provided outlet for expression and create their own space like that. You took a photo before moving on down the hall to find your own room.

Then, when you got the chance to talk to the other girls on your hall, they'd asked if you'd met Rachel Amber yet. You'd told them no, you hadn't, and they'd looked shocked (though it was somewhat exaggerated). In the end, the girls convinced you to attend the first Vortex Club party of the year, where she was bound to be.

You'd gone, because you said you would, but you left early because the loud music and the constant movement of the crowd quickly became overwhelming. You did manage to take a picture of a curious girl with blonde hair and a blue feather earring as she was dancing, though, so you counted the night a success.

 You didn't officially meet her until she approached you during lunch sometime in your second week. You were sitting under a tree in the courtyard, sifting through your photos because your photography teacher was already assigning projects. You didn't even notice her take a seat beside you.

"Are those your photos?" She'd asked suddenly, and you must have jumped a mile. She had the courtesy not to laugh, but there was an amused smile on her face when you turned to face her.

"Um...yeah," Was all you could manage at first. "I mean, these are just the ones I've taken this week, so they're not all great, but...yeah." You remember kicking yourself for sounding so lame, but Rachel didn't seem to care as she picked up a polaroid. You'd felt anxious as she'd studied your shots, because this was the girl Kate had pointed out as the famous Rachel Amber. The girl that everyone knew and everyone loved.

(Minus Victoria, but you didn't think she loved anyone.)

Finally, she'd picked up a dark photo you barely remembered taking. She'd stared at it, then met your eyes.

"Is this me?" When she turned it towards you, you'd realized it was the photo you'd taken at the party, and then you'd blushed because it  _was_ her.

"Oh--I'm sorry, I should have asked--" But then she'd cracked a smile and you didn't know what to say anymore.

"I don't mind," She'd told you. "In fact, I think you should use it for the photography project. That's this week, right?" As you nodded, she stood, brushing off her jeans. "And maybe I can model for you again sometime." The way she smiled at you then kept you speechless until she was gone.

And after that, she did model for you. Countless times in countless places. Being around her was much easier than you'd expected, especially after you figured out she was just as weird as anyone else.

"What's your birthday?" She'd asked you one day, and though you supposed it was a normal question for newfound friends, it felt like it may as well have dropped from the sky. But she didn't even glance up from her phone when she asked, so you answered casually, and she'd made a sort of "hm" sound, scrolling rapidly down some webpage. Then:

"Virgo. 'September is the month to trade in your cautious nature for a sense of adventure. You can expect many rare opportunities this month, so don't miss them!'" You remember the mischievous, lopsided grin she'd given you like you remember the first time you rode your bike without training wheels. "I think it means me, Max."

You couldn't help but think she was right.

But you'd laughed a bit, and asked if she really believed in all that zodiac biz. The grin shifted into this weird sort of smile that told you yes, she did, and just for that moment you think you believed it too.

She liked to make people laugh, you learned. Sometimes when she saw you walking around with your camera, she'd rush to strike a silly pose before you could take a serious shot of her. Even if she was in the middle of a conversation, which earned you both a few weird looks, but Rachel didn't care so you didn't either. She almost always saw you before you saw her, but on those occasions when you did manage a candid, you considered it your best photography.

You're pretty sure that was how she came to dominate the Max Caulfield Memorial Wall--those casual shots where she wasn't posing, wasn't trying, she just  _was._ You think an outsider looking in might think you're in love with her.

And, okay, maybe they wouldn't exactly be wrong, but who could blame you? She's smart, and funny, and kind, and goofy, and even if being around her is a little tiring for an introvert like you, she feels like home. She makes you feel good in a way that no one and nothing had since you'd left Arcadia Bay five years ago. Since Chloe.

(And you _were_ glad to see Chloe again, you really were, but at first you'd felt like things would never be the same between you.)

But with Rachel around, time moved faster than you thought it had any right to. One moment it's October and you're at a Halloween party with a pair of antlers perched on your head, awkwardly trying to find normalcy with your childhood best friend, and the next it's late December and your teachers are starting to assign final projects before the holidays and you and Chloe and Rachel have fallen into an easy dynamic. And you're stressed, because you've barely been pulling a C in your science class, but you're happy. You've got your old best friend back, and a new best friend that you'd maybe like to date, and you know exactly what you want to do for your photography final.

That brings you to now, at the junkyard, in Rachel's and Chloe's hideout. You suppose it's technically yours now, too, but it still feels more  _theirs._ You think that's okay, though, because that's why you picked this place.

Rachel is sitting on a beaten-up old couch in the corner with Chloe's head on her lap. The way her blue hair falls over Rachel's ripped black leggings is begging for a photo, so you take one even though you haven't officially started the shoot yet.

And you're a little nervous about doing this, because you neglected to check if one of the other locations was even still there, but you've already committed yourself. So you take a breath and just start.

You take a lot of photos in the hideout, of Chloe and Rachel doing what they normally do, and it's an interesting insight to what things might have been like before you came back. And sure, maybe you'll only need one of the pictures for the project, but you want plenty of options. You want all three of your photos to form a seamless bigger picture. Metaphorically, anyway.

When you're done there, Chloe drives you across town and stops on a dirt road by the woods, and you lead them down a very familiar non-path. Chloe is carrying your tripod, and Rachel's got a bag of props you brought along. You stop short when you find what you're looking for, breath catching in your throat.

"It's still here," you remark, almost in awe. Granted, the treehouse definitely looks worse for wear, and this probably won't be the safest photoshoot you've ever done, but it's still  _there._  After all these years.

And really, it's nothing special to look at. It's little more than a wooden floor with a railing and a rope ladder that looks a little like it spent a brief moment in a blender. The floor looks like it should still hold your weight, though you don't think you can say the same for the railing. The whole thing looks like it's changed about as much as you have in these five years, which is to say it doesn't look anything except older.

You have to stop yourself from running up the ladder.

Instead, you focus on adjusting the tripod so that the treehouse is framed just right. Chloe, however, has no such restraint, and scrambles up into the tree like a gangly blue squirrel. You chuckle to yourself as she leans over the side and does her best pirate impression, which hasn't improved much since you were 10.

You glance over at Rachel, and for the first time since you met her, she looks...awkward. You don't know if Chloe ever brought her here, but right now your best guess is no.

"You okay, Rach?" You ask, because she's just standing there with this weird look on her face. She blinks, like she's snapping out of a trance.

"What? Oh, yeah. I'm...fine." There's a long pause between you. You don't believe her, but you don't want to push the subject either, so the two of you just watch Chloe goof off for a few moments. Then, like you thought (or hoped), she speaks up again.

"It's weird, I guess. Being here. I knew it existed, but I've never actually been here, and...I don't know. It's like a reminder that we don't have the same history that you two do." There's a list of words in the back of your head titled 'Things Rachel Amber Is Not' and at the very top of it are "quiet" and "unsure" but right now she's both, and it throws you off guard. You never thought something like that would bother her.

"Well, sure, we have history, but what does it matter when you go five years without speaking?" You don't think that was the right thing to say in any capacity, but then Rachel is laughing and you don't care.

"I guess you're right, Max Attack." She hands you the bag of props she'd been carrying and steps over to your camera. "Now go on, you've got a final project to ace."

Once you've carefully navigated your way into the treehouse (being much more cautious than Chloe), you begin to unpack the bag. You hand Chloe a bandanna, an eyepatch, a hand hook, and finally a Captain's hat. She dons the get-up proudly and snatches one of the wooden swords you'd brought along, despite them being cartoonishly small in your hands now.

"Land, ho!" She shouts, leaning out to point the sword toward the horizon. You roll your eyes, but you know there's a smile on your face as you pull your hair into a small ponytail and tie your bandanna over it. You elect not to don an eyepatch yourself, for variety's sake, but you do strip off your hoodie to reveal a red and white striped t-shirt. It doesn't quite have the look you were going for when you went shopping, but it's the best you could find and you figure it'll do the job well enough.

On the ground, Rachel tells you she's ready to start taking pictures whenever. Since your project idea requires you to be in two of the three photos, you'd asked Rachel and Chloe to press the button when it's their turn to sit out. It was easier than using a repeating timer, probably, and it gave you plenty of time to switch between poses.

Chloe really gets into her role--she always did--and you can't help but lose yourself a bit as well. It's been a long time since you've gotten to just act like a kid again. And to be able to call it homework? You're living 12-year-old Max's dream.

The session is, somewhat predictably, cut short by some suspicious creaking of the wooden flooring. You're quick to scramble down, but Chloe jeers from above, calling you chicken. She leans way out over the railing, waving her wooden sword and yelling, "Landlubbers!" That is, until a loud cracking noise echoes through the woods and the old railing relents to her weight.

Both you and Rachel lurch forward in an attempt to stop her fall, but neither of you is able to prevent her from landing in a crackling heap of browned leaves. You're sure to remind her how lucky she is as you help Rachel plaster band-aids on her scrapes.

Still, through her grumbling, she insists you finish the project today instead of putting it off for another day. Perhaps she's a little too familiar with your procrastination habits.

So you end up sitting under the tree where Rachel first spoke to you with her leaning against you lightly. You're nervous again all of a sudden, but you try to distract yourself with the photos spread around you. You study them to avoid meeting Rachel's eyes and let your internal monologue ramble.

There's a multitude of group selfies, about half of which feature a confused or surprised Chloe. You and Rachel had developed a special type of photobomb which you had aptly named the 'selfiebomb', and somehow the punk still didn't expect them. You pick one up, taken by the fountain not far from where you are now. Chloe had been waiting for you to get out of class, so you'd planned with Rachel to sneak up on her. You can still hear the very un-punk shriek she'd made when the camera went off.

Other photos are of Chloe on her skateboard or Rachel on her longboard. They'd both offered to teach you, but you'd decided falling on your ass a dozen times and having them laugh (or try not to) at you wasn't worth it. The pictures of Chloe doing tricks on a half-pipe, or of her scraped knees visible through her ripped jeans were some of your favorites. It's reminiscent of a Chloe you knew a long time ago, a Chloe you've always known. Her natural habitat.

There are shots of Rachel in her natural habitat, too--parties, that is. You rarely stay very long, but seeing her on the dance floor is really something. It's like watching leaves fall in autumn--natural and vividly beautiful.

That's about when it catches your eye. The very first one, from way back in early September. You pick it up, holding it like a precious memory.

Objectively speaking, it's probably not the best picture you've ever taken. Your hands had been shaking slightly, and your camera had been a bit tilted, and the lighting was weird. But there's Rachel with her hair fanning out around her head and her hands thrown up and her face partially obscured. You remember you'd seen her through a random gap in the crowd, and sometimes you choose to believe the partiers had parted just to give you this shot. Looking at it always feels like--

"Destiny?" Rachel murmurs beside you, and you have to wonder how much you've said out loud. You turn to look at her and for what you think is the first time in your life, your brain is completely silent. You'd think the words buried in her eyes stole the ones in your head, except you're not thinking anything at all because she is so, so close.

And she makes the first move, you're almost certain. Oh, but you absolutely respond, and you're kissing, oh god, you're  _kissing_ Rachel Amber. And there aren't any fireworks, like some people say, but there's not nothing, like others say. There's just brilliant orange leaves falling behind your eyelids and everything feels like autumn--natural and vividly beautiful.

You pull back when you hear the  _click-whrr_ of your instant camera, accompanied by a long whistle, descending in pitch as the heat rises to your face. There's a wolfish grin on Chloe's face, but you honestly can't bring yourself to care at all.

One look at the photo tells you that your project is complete.


End file.
